Nay fashionless, ere form I took,
Thy all and more beholding eye
My shapeless shape
Could not escape:
All these time framed successively
Ere one had being, in the book
Of thy foresight enrolled did lie.
My God, how I these studies prize,
That do thy hidden workings show!
Whose sum is such,
No sum so much:
Nay summ’d as sand they sumless grow.
I lie to sleep, from sleep I rise,
Yet still in thought with thee I go.
MARY HERBERT, COUNTESS OF PEMBROKE
ENGLISH (1561-1621)
I Look for You
I look for you early,
my rock and my refuge,
offering you worship
morning and night;
before your vastness
I come confused
and afraid for you to see
the thoughts of my heart.
What could the heart
and tongue compose,
or spirit’s strength
within me to suit you?
But song soothes you
and so I’ll give praise
to your being as long
as your breath-in-me moves.
SOLOMON IBN GABIROL
HEBREW/SPANISH (C. 1022-C. 1070) TRANSLATED BY PETER COLE
Song of the Soul That Is Glad to Know God by Faith
How well I know that fountain’s rushing flow
Although by night
Its deathless spring is hidden. Even so
Full well I guess from whence its sources flow
Though it be night.
Its origin (since it has none) none knows:
But that all origin from it arose
Although by night.
I know there is no other thing so fair
And earth and heaven drink refreshment there
Although by night.
Full well I know its depth no man can sound
And that no ford to cross it can be found
Though it be night.
Its clarity unclouded still shall be:
Out of it comes the light by which we see
Though it be night.
Flush with its banks the stream so proudly swells;
I know it waters nations, heavens, and hells
Though it be night.
The current that is nourished by this source
I know to be omnipotent in force
Although by night.
From source and current a new current swells
Which neither of the other twain excels
Though it be night.
The eternal source hides in the Living Bread
That we with life eternal may be fed
Though it be night.
Here to all creatures it is crying, hark!
That they should drink their fill though in the dark,
For it is night.
This living fount which is to me so dear
Within the bread of life I see it clear
Though it be night.
ST. JOHN OF THE CROSS
SPANISH (1542-1591)
TRANSLATED BY ROY CAMPBELL
Hail holy light, ofspring of Heav’n first-born
From Paradise Lost
Hail holy light, ofspring of Heav’n first-born,
Or of th’ Eternal Coeternal beam
May I express thee unblam’d? since God is light,
And never but in unapproachèd light
Dwelt from Eternitie, dwelt then in thee,
Bright effluence of bright essence increate.
Or hear’st thou rather pure Ethereal stream,
Whose Fountain who shall tell? before the Sun,
Before the Heavens thou wert, and at the voice
Of God, as with a Mantle didst invest
The rising world of waters dark and deep,
Won from the void and formless infinite.
Thee I re-visit now with bolder wing,
Escap’t the Stygian Pool, though long detain’d
In that obscure sojourn, while in my flight
Through utter and through middle darkness borne
With other notes then to th’ Orphean Lyre
I sung of Chaos and Eternal Night,
Taught by the heav’nly Muse to venture down
The dark descent, and up to reascend,
Though hard and rare: thee I revisit safe,
And feel thy sovran vital Lamp; but thou
Revisit’st not these eyes, that rowle in vain
To find thy piercing ray, and find no dawn;
So thick a drop serene hath quencht thir Orbs,
Or dim suffusion veild. Yet not the more
Cease I to wander where the Muses haunt
Cleer Spring, or shadie Grove, or Sunnie Hill,
Smit with the love of sacred song; but chief
Thee Sion and the flowrie Brooks beneath
That wash thy hallowd feet, and warbling flow,
Nightly I visit: nor somtimes forget
Those other two equal’d with me in Fate,
So were I equal’d with them in renown.
Blind Thamyris and blind Mæonides,
And Tiresias and Phineus Prophets old.
Then feed on thoughts, that voluntarie move
Harmonious numbers; as the wakeful Bird
Sings darkling, and in shadiest Covert hid
Tunes her nocturnal Note. Thus with the Year
Seasons return, but not to me returns
Day, or the sweet approach of Ev’n or Morn,
Or sight of vernal bloom, or Summers Rose,
Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine;
But cloud in stead, and ever-during dark
Surrounds me, from the chearful waies of men
Cut off, and for the Book of knowledg fair
Presented with a Universal blanc
Of Natures works to mee expung’d and ras’d,
And wisdome at one entrance quite shut out.
So much the rather thou Celestial light
Shine inward, and the mind through all her powers
Irradiate, there plant eyes, all mist from thence
Purge and disperse, that I may see and tell
Of things invisible to mortal sight.
JOHN MILTON
ENGLISH (1608-1674)
The World
I saw Eternity the other night
Like a great Ring of pure and endless light,
All calm, as it was bright,
And round beneath it, Time in hours, days, years
Driv’n by the spheres
Like a vast shadow mov’d, in which the world
And all her train were hurl’d;
The doting lover in his quaintest strain
Did there complain,
Near him his lute, his fancy, and his flights,
Wit’s sour delights,
With gloves and knots, the silly snares of pleasure;
Yet his dear treasure
All scattered lay, while he his eyes did pore
Upon a flower.
The darksome statesman, hung with weights and woe,
Like a thick midnight-fog moved there so slow
He did not stay, nor go;
Condemning thoughts (like sad eclipses) scowl
Upon his soul,
And clouds of crying witnesses without
Pursued him with one shout.
Yet digged the mole, and lest his ways be found
Worked underground,
Where he did clutch his prey, but one did see
That policy;
Churches and altars fed him, perjuries
Were gnats and flies,
It rained about him blood and tears, but he
Drank them as free.
The fearful miser on a heap of rust
Sat pining all his life there, did scarce trust
<
br /> His own hands with the dust,
Yet would not place one piece above, but lives
In fear of thieves.
Thousand there were as frantic as himself
And hugged each one his pelf,
The downright Epicure placed heaven in sense
And scorned pretence
While others, slipped into a wide excess,
Said little less;
The weaker sort slight, trivial wares enslave
Who think them brave,
And poor, despisèd Truth sat counting by
Their victory.
Yet some, who all this while did weep and sing,
And sing, and weep, soared up into the Ring,
But most would use no wing.
‘O fools’ (said I) ‘thus to prefer dark night
Before true light,
To live in grots, and caves, and hate the day
Because it shows the way,
The way which from this dead and dark abode
Leads up to God,
A way where you might tread the sun, and be
More bright than he.’
But as I did their madness so discuss
One whispered thus:
‘This Ring the Bridegroom did for none provide
But for his bride.’
HENRY VAUGHAN
ENGLISH (1622-1695)
Our God, Our Help in Ages Past
Our God, our help in ages past,
Our hope for years to come,
Our shelter from the stormy blast,
And our eternal home.
Under the shadow of thy throne
Thy saints have dwelt secure,
Sufficient is thine arm alone,
And our defense is sure.
Before the hills in order stood
Or earth received her frame,
From everlasting thou art God,
To endless years the same.
Thy word commands our flesh to dust,
“Return ye sons of men”:
All nations rose from earth at first
And turn to earth again.
A thousand ages in thy sight
Are like an evening gone,
Short as the watch that ends the night
Before the rising sun.
The busy tribes of flesh and blood
With all their lives and cares
Are carried downwards by thy flood
And lost in following years.
Time like an ever-rolling stream
Bears all its sons away,
They fly forgotten as a dream
Dies at the op’ning day.
Like flow’ry fields the nations stand
Pleased with the morning light,
The flow’rs beneath the mower’s hand
Lie withering ere ’tis night.
Our God our help in ages past,
Our hope for years to come,
Be thou our guard while troubles last,
And our eternal home.
ISAAC WATTS
ENGLISH (1674-1748)
Light Shining out of Darkness
God moves in a mysterious way
His wonders to perform;
He plants His footsteps in the sea,
And rides upon the storm.
Deep in unfathomable mines
Of never failing skill
He treasures up His bright designs,
And works His sovereign will.
Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take:
The clouds ye so much dread
Are big with mercy, and shall break
In blessings on your head.
Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust Him for His grace;
Behind a frowning providence
He hides a smiling face.
His purposes will ripen fast,
Unfolding ev’ry hour;
The bud may have a bitter taste,
But sweet will be the flow’r.
Blind unbelief is sure to err,
And scan His work in vain;
God is His own interpreter,
And He will make it plain.
WILLIAM COWPER
ENGLISH (1731-1800)
First-Day Thoughts
In calm and cool and silence, once again
I find my old accustomed place among
My brethren, where, perchance, no
human tongue
Shall utter words; where never hymn
is sung,
Nor deep-toned organ blown, nor censer
swung,
Nor dim light falling through the pictured
pane!
There, syllabled by silence, let me hear
The still small voice which reached the
prophet’s ear;
Read in my heart a still diviner law
Than Israel’s leader on his tables saw!
There let me strive with each besetting sin,
Recall my wandering fancies, and
restrain
The sore disquiet of a restless brain;
And, as the path of duty is made plain,
May grace be given that I may walk
therein,
Not like the hireling, for his selfish gain,
With backward glances and reluctant tread,
Making a merit of his coward dread,
But cheerful, in the light around me
thrown,
Walking as one to pleasant service led;
Doing God’s will as if it were my own,
Yet trusting not in mine, but in His
strength alone!
JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER
AMERICAN (1807-1892)
Lead, Kindly Light
Lead, kindly light, amid the encircling gloom,
Lead thou me on;
The night is dark, and I am far from home;
Lead thou me on.
Keep thou my feet; I do not ask to see
The distant scene: one step enough for me.
I was not ever thus, nor prayed that thou
Shouldst lead me on;
I loved to choose and see my path; but now
Lead thou me on.
I loved the garish day, and, spite of fears,
Pride ruled my will: remember not past years.
So long thy power hath blest me, sure it still
Will lead me on
O’er moor and fen, o’er crag and torrent, till
The night is gone,
And with the morn those angel faces smile
Which I have loved long since, and lost awhile.
JOHN HENRY NEWMAN
ENGLISH (1801-1890)
Abide with Me
Abide with me; fast falls the eventide;
The darkness deepens; Lord, with me abide,
When other helpers fail, and comforts flee,
Help of the helpless, O abide with me.
Swift to its close ebbs out life’s little day;
Earth’s joys grow dim, its glories pass away;
Change and decay in all around I see:
O Thou who changest not, abide with me!
I need Thy presence every passing hour;
What but Thy grace can foil the tempter’s power?
Who like Thyself my guide and stay can be?
Through cloud and sunshine, O abide with me.
I fear no foe, with Thee at hand to bless;
Ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness;
Where is death’s sting? where, grave, thy victory?
I triumph still, if Thou abide with me.
Hold Thou Thy Cross before my closing eyes,
Shine through the gloom, and point me to the skies;
Heaven’s morning breaks, and earth’s vain shadows flee:
In life, in death, O Lord, abide with me!
HENRY FRANCIS LYTE
SCOTTISH (1793-1847)
God’s Grandeur
The world is charged with the grandeur of God.
It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;
It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil
Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod?
Generations have trod, have trod, have trod;
And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil;
And wears man’s smudge and shares man’s smell: the soil
Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.
And for all this, nature is never spent;
There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;
And though the last lights off the black West went
Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs —
Because the Holy Ghost over the bent
World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright
wings.
GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS
ENGLISH (1844-1889)
The Creation
And God stepped out on space,
And he looked around and said:
I’m lonely —
I’ll make me a world.
And far as the eye of God could see
Darkness covered everything,
Blacker than a hundred midnights
Down in a cypress swamp.
Then God smiled,
And the light broke,
And the darkness rolled up on one side,
And the light stood shining on the other,
And God said: That’s good!
Then God reached out and took the light in his hands,
And God rolled the light around in his hands
Until he made the sun;
And he set that sun a-blazing in the heavens.
And the light that was left from making the sun
God gathered it up in a shining ball
And flung it against the darkness,
Spangling the night with the moon and stars.
Then down between
The darkness and the light
He hurled the world;
And God said: That’s good!
Then God himself stepped down —
And the sun was on his right hand,
And the moon was on his left;
The stars were clustered about his head,
And the earth was under his feet.
And God walked, and where he trod
His footsteps hollowed the valleys out
And bulged the mountains up.
Then he stopped and looked and saw
That the earth was hot and barren.
So God stepped over to the edge of the world
And he spat out the seven seas —
He batted his eyes, and the lightnings flashed —
He clapped his hands, and the thunders rolled —
And the waters above the earth came down,
Bartlett's Poems for Occasions Page 38